She spent 6,000 yuan getting it arranged, and ended up pulling an all-nighter. When she came in, she dropped her bag and casually told me she’d go take a shower first.

When she stepped out wrapped in a bathrobe, I stopped her and told her to put her clothes on and go grab some food.

On the way, she kept tilting her head toward me all the time, saying nothing. Streetlights along the roadside cast on her face. She took out a cigarette and lit it; the flame flickered once, and then her eyes dimmed.

While we ate, neither of us talked much. I picked up my chopsticks and gave her two bites of菜. After we finished, I suggested there was a home decoration exhibition hall nearby—let’s stop by on the way and then head back.

She didn’t refuse. She followed quietly, and you could tell she was full of questions. The exhibition hall’s air-conditioning was set low. Before long, she couldn’t take it anymore and slumped onto the rest sofa and fell asleep. I took off my outer jacket and draped it over her. She jolted awake at once, panicked, and asked me, “Are we… supposed to sleep here?”

I shook my head and said I was afraid she’d catch a chill. After that, she didn’t doze again. She kept looking at the furnished sample apartments under the hall lights—living rooms, the balcony plant stands—everything exactly like the rooms she used to sketch casually in her notebooks. On the drive back to the hotel, she stared out the window at the newly built properties the whole way, saying nothing.

When we stopped at the hotel entrance, she was still in a daze. I tugged her wrist, pointed at the newly opened renovation shop by the street. Through the glass door, the lights were bright; the floor tiles and wardrobe were all arranged neatly. It was all the look of something built for living day to day.

I asked her, “I still don’t know what your name is.”

She kept her head down, her fingers rubbing the price sheet taped to the glass. After a long time, she didn’t look up. Tears welled in her eyes.

Only after a while did she speak. Her voice was hoarse. “Can I… go upstairs first?”

In the ride back to the hotel, she took the initiative to tell me about things from the past.

The guy she used to date always talked about saving money to buy a place. He said he’d make her a floating desk, and the windowsill would be filled with hanging plants. He said it for years—none of it ever came true. Back then she’d flipped through renovation catalogs until the end, and in the end she was still the only one drifting around everywhere. Even she admitted it was laughable when she thought about it.

After I went back to my room and got out of the shower, she was quietly sitting by the edge of the bed waiting. I sat down next to her and didn’t do anything else. She couldn’t stay awake and fell asleep leaning against the headboard. Her breathing was soft. I stayed beside her and slept the whole night too.

At dawn, I woke up first. I saw a dried tear mark at the corner of her eye. I didn’t want to wake her. I quietly put a business card for the renovation shop into her bag and left by myself.

A long time later, I happened to pass by that shop again, and I saw her.

She was wearing clean work overalls now. She wasn’t like the way she used to—drifting and messy. She stood firmly in the sample unit, explaining the design to customers. Her coworkers all said she was thoughtful and the best at understanding the kind of small home others wanted. Only she herself knew in her heart that staying at that shop every day wasn’t just to go to work.

She was waiting for the man from that night. He didn’t touch her even once, but he helped her pick back up the confidence to finally have a home she could want.